


The Consort

by Army C (arh581958)



Series: The King's Consort [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alpha!Ian, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Exhibitionism, Fucked-up Biology, Going to Hell, In Public, Lactation, Lactation Kink, M/M, Male Lactation, Master/Slave, Omega!Mickey, Penis Lactation, Possessive!Ian, Public Claiming, Public Display of Affection, Public Nudity, Public Sex, Royalty, Slavery, Small Penis, Voyeurism, author has no regrets, because I want people to be jealous of Ian monopolizing Mickey's beauty, king!Ian, master!Ian, no ragrets, slave!Mickey, yes that's an 'a'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2018-08-28 04:18:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8431567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arh581958/pseuds/Army%20C
Summary: King Ian enjoyed the company of men. As such, he had a whole harem of scantily clad soldiers guarding the rooms and naked boys roaming the corridors. People knew not to touch those in his harem. Of all those in his court, Mickey was his favorite. (Or: Kinky story in which Ian has his merry little way with Mickey in front of a court full of men because he's a possessive SOB like that.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Trick or Treat!**
> 
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> **GALLAVICH CHRISTMAS EXCHANGE, ANYONE?**
> 
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> 
> I wanted a trick-or-treat Halloween story but ended up with this monstrosity. I am not sorry. This contains dub-con/non-con, depending on how you view it. Mickey is essentially a slave but I think (winkwink) that he enjoys how he's treated anyway. Instead of costumes, I present King!Ian and Slave!Mickey AU. Inspired by the one story wherein Mickey is a side-piece but this time he's _Ian's_ sidepiece. I tried so hard to keep them in character but, given the situation, I had to improvise on a lot of things. 
> 
>  
> 
> **ALSO PLEASE READ THE TAGS AND WARNINGS! THIS IS SUPER KINKY.**

Ian wasn't paying attention to whatever the hell the elders had to say in the council meeting. For all that he's concerned about were the rebel groups on the Eastern border not causing innocent deaths but being king also meant sitting through all this boring shit.  His eyes were on Mickey, who was scowling in a corner looking as bored as he felt.

Mickey came to them fully trained for the bedroom but miraculously pure. Coming from a disgraced noble linage of the once glorious Ukrainian Kingdom, third son to one of the last king's bastard children, his pale skin, dark black hair, and piercing blue eyes showcased the unmistakable beauty of their kind. He was gifted to Ian by his older brother, King Phillip of Trumbull, after the fall of Ukraine. When he first arrives, Ian had the healers test him for any alpha impurities on Mickey but found only the scent of omega trainers.

Ian was the Alpha King of his own land, rising to the throne because Lip decided to pursue studies abroad and fall in-love with the princess of foreign land across the ocean. He enjoyed the company of men. As such, he had a whole harem of scantily clad soldiers guarding the rooms and naked boys roaming the corridors. People knew not to touch those in his harem. His favorite, by far, of all his men, was Mickey.

An idea popped into his head.

“Mickey,” he said, interrupting a scholar mid-sentence. “Come here. Service me.”

The omega standing in the corner smirked and pushed off the wall. All the men in the room eyed the stunning man. He was too beautiful for words—the only one whose skin Ian kept hidden away for his own private pleasure.

“What do you wish, my lord?”

Only Mickey can make formal language sound respectful but challenging all the same. His hip cocked to the side, palm resting against the dark black satin robe. It didn't stop the way it parted in the middle, revealing a sliver of white pale legs.

“Warm my cock. I want it encircled with you pretty link lips while I go through the rest of this boring meeting.”

Ian parted his legs. The fabric of his layered robes allowed for privacy and access. A loud gasp came from the oldest advisor, a homophobic prick from his father's time that he's just waiting to die of old age.

Mickey threw a smug look over his shoulder, still smirking.

“As you wish, my king.”

He sunk down to his knees without a word, parted Ian's robes with soft nimble fingers, and took the King's impressive cock easily. It was one of his most sought after duties—to hold the cradle the massive flesh in the cradle of his mouth—next to holding it in other parts of him.

All of the advisers, young and old, envied the Ian at that moment. Mickey looked _gorgeous_ with his mouth filled to the edge with the King's impressive girth. Ian held Mickey's eyes, hand carding through the soft wavy hair. They shared a moment before Ian tore his eyes away.

“The fuck you looking at?!” He snapped, green eyes—alive with fire—glaring daggers at the councilmen. “I am no longer bored. Get on with it! I don't want to be stuck here all day! Tell me the reports so we can get to the planning.”

By lunch time, Ian was over his wits with the meeting—skirmishes along the border with bandits and thieves, the year's crop of wheat far more plentiful than their needs, and the constant nagging from his siblings for him to marry. He kept stroking Mickey's hair and the man had fallen asleep on his lap, peaceful shaving years off his face.

Mickey woke up when Ian pulled his cock away.

“Ian?”

The name slipped like it would in the privacy of Ian's bed chambers. Ian, ever the benevolent King, let it pass for he knew of Mickey's trance-like demeanor post-slumber. He pulled Mickey off by the hair and maneuvered the shorter man to beside him, weight leaning against his high-backed chair.

“I am hungry. What do you carry?” He asked quietly.

Mickey bit his lip and kept his head down. “Eggs, sire,” he answered with the faintest blush on his cheeks. “Two. Boiled.”

Ian smiled at him. His long fingers caressed the softness of Mickey's stomach. He grinned when he felt two hard lumps near Mickey's pelvis. Of all the men in his harem, he made sure that Mickey was the cleanest—ordering a strict floral bath and washing inside and out.

“You keeping them warm for me inside you?” He grinned when the pinkish blush deepened to red.

“Course I am.” Mickey greeted his teeth together. “Think I  fucking _like_ keeping eggs inside me for, what, fun? Har har. S'not even funny.”

For that tone, Ian slapped him on the ass.

“Fine,” the young king pouted, “Over the desk with you. For you insolence, I wanna have that with your slick. Don't forget to peel it. No shells this time or _I_ will give you the lashings myself.”

Mickey whimpered at the threat of punishment. For this entire stay in the castle, Ian only had the omega whipped _once_ and that was for trying to kill him. He never tried it again. A month long recuperation and stinging herbal ointments served the dual purpose of preventing scarring and prolonging the pain of the beating.

“What have you brought for me to drink?”

“A skin of wine, sire, but…” Mickey bared his neck submissively—almost shyly—then urged Ian's hand to the front opening of his robe, parting it for the alpha to see. Ian had abstained from milking him the whole week and now Mickey's balls hung heavy between his legs. “I swell with your milk, sire—Ian, please.”

A male omega, having no need for fertile seed, instead held a mammary in each sack that helps sustain his partner. Mickey flat breasts will also swell with milk when he's with child but for now he may nurse through his small dick.

Ian beamed at the offer. “Very well, over the table then after I shall indulge myself with your milk.”

“Yes, my king.”

Mickey bent over the table in front of Ian. His satin robe had a slit at the back that opened ay his tailbone. Bent over, it exposed his creamy white ass for the alpha to open up. Clear slick dripped down his thighs, shining with the sunlight.

Ian leaned in, nosing the valley of Mickey's cheeks. It added to the blessing that Mickey had a liking for sweet things. The omega's natural sweetness heightened by the sugar that he ate, and it further deepened his scent. Ian inhaled intently but the spike of the other alphas arousals made his growl.

“Out,” he growled, scent oozing thickly to choke the aroused _pups_. They were all inferior to his prime alpha nature. “If you can't control your knots over my omega, then you don't deserve to sit at this table. I am your king and Mickey shall sustain me as I please.”

Mickey, one weak for Ian's dominance, leaked profusely from his behind.

“Shh, shh, it’s not you, Mick, s’not you.” Ian soothed the trembling man with wide strokes on Mickey's sides. “I'm not mad at you. You've been perfect. You _are_ perfect—my perfect omega—taking care of me whenever I need. Come on, Mick, let me taste your sweet slick. You know how much I love how you taste.”

Mickey keened, lifting his ass as a clear offer to the king.

Ian sent daggers to the unfortunate alphas in the room before bending down to lap at Mickey's tight pink hole, singing praises.

“So good for me, Mick, did you hold the eggs in the whole time? Keeping them warm for me?”

Mickey nodded against his bent arms.

The meeting was yet to be over. Ian sensed this when a brave soul fake-coughed politely.

“I didn't say stop.” The king told his advisers. “I simply wished for sustenance while we go through this tiresome need. Go on, get on with it while I take my fill.” To Mickey he said tenderly, “Mick, you may release the first egg.”

As the council restarted the conversations, Mickey carefully pushed out the first hardboiled egg. It was part id his duties to carry  small snacks to help nurse the busy king, keeping it warm in his unused womb.

They had special spheres which held small portions of food that Ian may request at any time. Today, as was previously stated, the cooks gave him two eggs to carry for the king. Getting them in was an embarrassing process that involved Mickey with his legs in the air while he inserted the heavy balls inside him. No one else but Ian touched him. Getting them out was just as embarrassing.

“That's it, Mick, push it out.”

Mickey was covered with sweat. He gritted his teeth and tried to obey, but the tension kept him tight as a virgin.

Ian helped him along, mouthing his hole and sucking his slick with loud noisy slurps. Mickey loosened and loosened with every swipe of Ian's tongue until the tip of the first egg started to push against the pulsing rim. Ian lapped at the sweet slick, urging more to lubricate the channel and smoothen the extraction process. He kept massaging the outer muscles with his tongue.

“Ahh!” Mickey gasped as the first egg popped out. A gush of slick followed as it plopped onto the king's robes. Ian didn't mind. He had more than enough layers to cover it up later. The egg was covered I  Mickey's slick. Ian liked it all off and peeled it slowly. Meanwhile, Mickey quivered in front if him, trapped cock leaking white milk.

“That was good, Mick, I loved it.”

Ian ate the egg, dipping his fingers into Mickey's hole to get more slick.

For all his posturing, being so open and exposed, Mickey hid his face in his arms. The second egg was even harder to get out. He normally wouldn't have this problem but Ian had fucked him right after breakfast and lodged it deep inside. Whimpers escapes his lips with every failed push.

Minutes passed, and Ian grew impatient. He manhandled Mickey over his lap, sinking two fingers into the omega's loose hole unceremoniously. The sound the erupted from Mickey's throat was a cross between a whine and a purr. Ian's alpha growled at the submissive display, approving. Mickey buried his face in Ian's neck.

“One more, Mick, one more,” Ian urged. His other hand traced the softness of Mickey's stomach in search for the remaining egg, forcing it down.

Mickey clutched Ian's shoulders, biting his lip until it turned white. His eyes grew watery at the sensation.

“Let go, Mick, that's an order. _Let it go_.”

Mickey nodded into Ian's shoulder. He trembled with the effort to push. His hands wrapped around the king's neck. What a sight he made—the satin clung to his sweaty skin, pale legs bracketing the alpha, face buried submissively into Ian's neck. A fool wouldn't have thought the brattiest omega in the harem to be him right now. He idly rubbed against Ian's growing bulge.

“Fuck,” he moaned brokenly while he pushed.

Ian licked Mickey's ear in encouragement. His fingers worked Mickey's hole while the other massaged the eggs lower. He kept whispering filthy words to the pliant omega. Slowly, the egg drifted down to the tips his fingers. It popped free with a gush of slick that wet them both. The soaked fabric clung to his massive erection.

“Disgusting,” a beta from the council muttered, “What a messy omega.”

Ian looked over Mickey's shoulder and growled. “You are banned from this castle. I wager that your wrinkly beta ass never made an omega produce so much slick. It's a privilege I am pleases to know you never received. Guards!” Two beefy beta guards took the complaining man away. By then, Ian had already returned his attention to the purring omega. “Good boy, Mick. don't listen to the meanie. You know I love it when you get wet for me. As a reward, I'd suck your cock in front of anyone here.”

Mickey moaned a quiet “Please” into Ian's hair. He spreads his legs wider over the alpha's width, humping Ian's stomach with his short fat cock.

Ian lapped at his neck. “Stand kneel in the arm rests,” he instructed, moving Mickey into pace over the chair. In this position, the normally short omega towers over him. His head at the perfect height to suckle on the small cocklet. The sweet scent of Mickey fills Ian's nostrils. It makes his mouth water. He strokes Mickey's sides and coaxes the first drops of milk onto his tongue.

Above him, Mickey bit his lip to hold in the mewl.

“Shouldn't ya be payin' attention to these fucktwads?”

Ian chuckled at that, smiling broadly at him. “They can say all they want. I _am_ listening, you know. Like how, Sir Edwards over there is singing sonnets about your round ass. Let him talk. He'll never have you.” Slick poured out of Mickey because of his words. Mickey was so responsive to him—he loved that about the older man.

For the roughness that surrounded him, Mickey touched Ian with a tenderness that could cradle clouds.

Ian couldn't stop the obscene moan. Mickey's milk tasted like heaven in liquid form—smooth, sweet, succulent. It was thick and laden with nutrients that only an omega provides. Ian relished the privilege of being able to indulge at will. No one else knew this unique flavor. He suckled it like a selfish little pup.

Mickey planted his palms over Ian's shoulder for balance, whole body wreaked in shivers.

Ian kept drinking. One of his hands massaged Mickey's balls while the other kneaded the slick-drenched crease, teasing Mickey's hole. The rim fluttered around his fingers.

“Ian, my king, _Ian_ ,” Mickey sobbed out the name. “Milk me, please.”

Ian did. The refreshing taste of milk filled both his stomach and his mouth. Mickey above him oozed pheromones laced with thick arousal. He pumped the omega's cock then took the whole thing into his mouth. It tasted like nothing he had before—pure Mickey—and it was his own personal vice.

Once finished, Mickey collapsed over him again. A soft whimper escaped the omega's lips. Ian smiled for he knew that sound—it was Mickey refraining from crying out. They need not speak. Ian felt the greedy hole trying to take his fingers deeper.

“More?” A small nod. “This meeting isn't nearly done. Do you think you can bear holding my cock inside you while I finish this business?” Another nod, followed by Mickey wiggling in his lap, slick pouring over Ian's robe.

Ian pulled out his impressive length then guided Mickey onto it. The look in Mickey's face was pure bliss with red lips turning white with the way he bit it. Ian licked the pearl tooth until Mickey opened his mouth. Their tongues met between them—both equally fierce and unyielding it was yet another of the many things that Ian loved about him.

“Stay still, then I will knot you in my chambers for as many times as you wish.”

Mickey settled over Ian, content, with his head resting on the alpha's shoulders. His whole body loose and relaxed. Ian could see over his shoulder and conduct business, heedless of the omega keeping his cock warm. It was an easy comfort. Having Mickey constantly around made the running a kingdom exponentially more bearable.


	2. In the chambers, later that same day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been bored today.

Mickey's naked hip lands on the bed--bare white knees hit the two sides of the bed while his cock painfully on the soft duvet. His black satin robe lay crumpled on the wooden floor by their feet, already stained with a shimmer of slick.

 

Ian's hands grip his hips seconds later, nose flaring.

 

Mickey's fingers dive beneath the lush covers. It smelled of them since the king invaded his bed yet again. The night-time visits have become more frequent since his arrival. Maybe it was the alpha's on-coming rut. He can smell it.

 

Ian's large sweaty palms tracing up Mickey's sides then tugging at his shoulders. It was such a soft yet demanding gesture. Every inch of alpha focused on handling his omega.

 

It takes a comment or two before Mickey complies. He forces himself up onto his forearms with his back arched beautifully low in submission.

 

"So good for me, Mick," Ian praises.

 

A shiver runs down Mickey's spine. "Fuck, yeah," he pants into the white sheets. "Ya gonna, fuck me, sire just like a whore?"

 

"No," Ian growls in displeasure, "m'omega ain't no whore. I'm gonna fill ya up with m'pups, Mick. Gonna get  his flat belly nice and round. Ev'ryone's gonna be jealous." He bends down to lick Mickey's slightly pink ear. "Gonna fill you up."

 

Mickey doesn't have time to protests as the seven-inch cock sheathes itself inside him. It slides in smoothly. After all, he's been stretched wide by Ian's knot less than an hour ago. The kings still smells of mild irritation like he always did after council meetings.

 

The omega breaks into a moan. Ian is hard, thick, and so damn hot inside him. He can't help but bow his head and run a hand through his fingers--pulling--just to keep himself sane.

 

Once the brutal pace is set, there's not turning back. Ian's slams his clothed thigh to Mickey's naked on-thick wool to naked skin. His hands burn hotly on Mickey's lower back with a grip tight enough to leave bruises. Sweat proud down their spines. He bends down, kissing Mickey on the cheek before lick up his neck.

 

"I wanted you from the day that I first saw you. You're beautiful, Mick."

 

"Fuckin' sap!" Mickey's protest ends with a low groan when Ian presses in deep. "Ah, fuck, yes, right there!" His biceps push harder to lengthen his low back, hips pushing up.

 

Ian leans in low and wraps arms over Mickey's chest, holding the shorter man in place. His dark grey shirt sleeves darkened with beads of Mickey's sweat. His fingers automatically find Mickey's budding pink nipples.

 

Mickey cries out when Ian pinches.

 

"Our children will nurse from your tits," Ian panted hotly beside Mickey's ear, one hand on a nipple while the other goes south to cup Mickey's small balls, "and I'll suckle this every night to keep your sated. Want that, Mick? My mouth on you every single night."

 

The next thrust had them tumbling onto the bed.

 

"Please," Mickey gritted out, eyes burning.

 

"Please, what?" Ian taunted, pealing back to slowly pull his cock out. The rim fluttered over it, soft like butter.

 

Mickey's mind was in a frenzy. "Anything just please, fuck, your mouth, fuck, _Ian_ , please, I want--I want!" He shuddered, unable to continue.

 

Ian took pity and gingerly pulled out. He dropped to his knees with a soft thud, face level with Mickey's leaking ass. He wasted no time spreading the pale cheeks open and licking into the sweet slick.

 

Mickey thighs trembled with the effort to push back. "Yes, yes, Ian, fuck!" He breathed deeply, burying his face into the covers and inhaling their mixed scents once more--Ian's woodsy scent and his grassy one. They smelled like the freshly thawed woodlands in spring.

 

Ian lapped at the soft puffy ring, letting more and more of his saliva coat the walls. Alpha saliva has healing properties for their omegas. It's a failsafe for mating to be comfortable for their mate. The same things happens when they suckle from their nursing omega's breast; it helps with the tenderness.

 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Mickey's moans became frantic. Fingers clawed over the crown, pushing it aside then curling into Ian's hair. "Ian, milk me. Milk me!"

 

That, Ian did. He shot up, capturing Mickey's legs with a swoop, then turning the omega on his back. Grabbing both of Mickey's ankles, he wasted no time in spreading the milky white thighs apart then taking Mickey's small cock into his mouth.

 

Mickey moaned loudly when lips sealed over his cock. The sucking came naturally. It had been weird the first time that the alpha sucked him. Back then, his only thought of pleasure had come from using his ass but the young talented king taught him otherwise. It was perverse how he loved the way Ian suckled like a babe.

 

Sadly, it was over way to soon since he'd just been milked earlier.

 

Ian left a feather-light kiss on the top of Mickey's cock before releasing the omega's legs. Stray pale white droplets of milk remained on his lower lip, making Mickey blush.

 

"Ahh, come the fuck here," the omega stubbornly motioned, fanning his fingers towards himself. Ian idly complied and was surprised when Mickey licked the milk off.

 

"This doesn't let your fuckin' knot off. You said as many times as I wished!"


	3. Spring Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little something, something while I'm drunk and high.
> 
>  **WARNING: Unbeta read.** [Interested? Drop your email here.](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/ask)

Ian was well-versed in the politics of wealth and affluence. As did all the kings and queen whom surrounded him. A smile here. A well-meaning gift there. Sometimes, a threat or two if playing nice didn’t work. Politicking was a monarch’s trade—day and night, night and day. No rest came to the weary.

When everything was a bargain or a trade, a certain level of prosperity needed to be upheld. Sometimes it did well to remind his allies of his kingdom’s prowess.

Today was a day of festivity, for no reason other than he declared it so. Noblemen, visiting dignitaries, and a select number of servants occupied the great hall. The upper class wore finer clothes while his slaves donned nothing but thin leather straps around their necks, to fit the happy occasion.

His harem was an entertainment for the nobles—a moving display of slender forms, bare skin, and cocks obediently in cages, while the plugs they wore peeked out as they moved from time to time. They were live art, as was the royal musicians played medley upon medley of joyous music as dancers paraded the center of the great hall.

A hundred long-burning beeswax candles, harvested and made by the lower towns, dimly lit the warm space on chandeliers high above, rows of brass candlesticks on the stone walls, and several more lining the center of the tables where an assortment of food filled the long table—sweet meats, large fish from the ocean’s deep, fruits and vegetables from across the mountain, and countless eggs and poultry.

Sitting upon his grandiose throne of opulent gold, dressed in the finest leather, silk, and cotton, with a goblet of the sweetest wine in hand, he surveyed the on-going merriment with eye twinkling with dark mischief.

Perhaps the ball could be celebration of Spring, he reasoned. Winter ice melted, and yet summer’s heat has yet to come. Spring brought forth new life to start another bountiful year. All those were lies, really. Heaven knew there was only one reason why he wanted to host a ball—and no, it wasn’t the food or mead.

It was Mickey.

Of course, it was Mickey.

It will always Mickey.

Mickey, who now lay—displayed—on the platform beside Ian, was the centerpiece of the entire charade. He was dressed layers upon layers of dark silks—a dark robe of sleek black with an undertone of shimmering midnight blue, a matching blue and silver second layer that covered any sliver of skin that might peek, and finally white lace caressed his skin on the inside.

Ian especially requisitioned the tailor for pregnancy-robes which were light and breathable, and enticing designs and cuts which meant for Mickey to be the envy of all omegas.

Mickey’s position in court was solidified by the largeness of his belly. His stomach bulged with the weight of the Ian’s children. No longer was he _just_ a prince from a fallen kingdom. Mickey now carried the future heirs to the throne, and thus earned his right to stay by the king’s side as the royal consort.

Ian, because his proclivities lie with men, rarely indulged in the rare male omega. Thus, Mickey’s arrival came as an unspoken prayer being answered rather than a simple surprise. Ian bedded many beta males, most of whom were currently present for the occasion as part of his infamous harem—a harem with now existed only by name for he could no longer hold anyone but his mate.

“Mickey,” he called out, cocking his head to watch the beautiful man beside him. He waited until Mickey turned his head and gave Ian his signature cocked-eyebrow. Ian then relinquished his goblet theatrically, licking his lips while staring deeply into Mickey’s eyes.

“I am thirsty.” Oh, truly did he thirst. “Nourish me.”

Mickey blushed deep red despite his scowl. “Tch. You want me to what?”

It was such an informal tone that several eavesdroppers froze in their places. Yet, it spoke much of how they’ve changed since the beginning. No longer were words said in spite and hatred, but deeply guarded affection underlined the harsh manner of speaking. It was still near-impossible to see Mickey so open especially in crowds such as this.

“Mickey,” Ian said the name again, voice filled with mischief and promise, “I said that I thirst. I have yet to have my fill of your milk since your pregnancy. I daresay that I will never get tired of it. Now, come here and nourish me.”

Mickey, really, had no choice but to obey. He _sauntered_ —despite having a more pronounced belly—with more swagger than most omegas in his state would be, as expected because it was Mickey, to the king’s side. Each step his took fluttered the lower hems of his robes. The light fabrics dancing over his form sinfully.

 _Oh yes_ , Ian thought, _this perfect creature is the father of all my children_. He wanted a castle full of pups with black hair and green eyes, red hair and blue eyes, green eyes and red hair, and black hair with blue eyes. They’ll all be handsome like this man standing in front of him.

Mickey’s hair was braided over his shoulder. As pregnancy-tales of the olden dictated, pregnant male omegas must resist cutting their hair in fear of the strands taking the omega’s life energy with it; therefore, he’s let his hair grow.

Though, Ian liked them, his omega preferred to keep his locks short. Perhaps, he should just keep Mickey always pregnant, and round, and absolutely stunning with his pregnancy-glow.

“Oh, you beautiful thing,” he mindlessly said aloud, unknowingly embarrassing Mickey more. Ian desperately reached out, as it physically pained him to be parted a second longer, with an outstretched arm. His finger grazed the huge hump. In slow motion, his lips curved into a smile.

Mickey’s fingers grabbed Ian’s wrists and squeezed.

“Don’t be a fucking sappy-bitch,” he hissed.

Ian would punish that insolent tone later. Right now, he and his inner alpha-self were far too happy to have their mate and children—yes children, at least two he hoped—close. He brought them close, by slinging an arm around Mickey’s waist and tugging the omega close. The throne’s height made it perfect for Mickey’s belly to be at level with Ian’s face.

Mickey squirmed, fighting, but all that fight was lost when Ian’s lips touched his belly. Alphas always ran warm. Ian could only imagine that the heat of his lips soaked through the layers of silken fabric. Up close, the scent of open-fields and endless meadows of spring ivy permeated. Mickey smelled like spring; then now, pregnant, his scent embodied the up-coming Spring.

“Fuckin’ sap—fuck!”

Delight sprang within Ian when the pups move from inside.

“Oh, _Mickey_ ,” Ian murmured in prayer, “My strong gorgeous omega. You are my Spring personified—a gift for my joyful life.” His eyes never left Mickey’s as his hands ventured on a voyage to explored the slopes of Mickey’s body, uncaring if the display was enjoyed by the whole hall; starting from the edge of Mickey’s hairline, down the curved back, then the twin plumps of Mickey’s backside. The scent of the omega’s low-arousal didn’t escape.

Ian’s fingers tightened on Mickey’s ass. “I said nourish _me_ , not the other way around, Mickey. Demanding, now that you’re carrying my pups?”

“Why not have a little fun while you’re at it, huh?” Mickey chuckled then smirked. His hands came down to catch Ian by the neck. “Not alpha enough to keep me sated—” his blue eyes darkened for a second then it was gone again, “—or you’d rather stick that knot in one of your other beta-whores? Ain’t pretty enough ‘cause I’m big and horrible.”  

Ian growled, hating how Mickey belittled himself. He tugged Mickey over his lap.

“Jealous, are you really?” he pulled Mickey down with fingers buried deep at the back of Mickey’s head, fingers brushing over the omega’s picked ears. “There’s no need. You’re my mate—my one and only. I do not wish for others.”

“And yet, they’re all here for you to see.”

This, and yet how could Mickey deny the deeper feelings brewing between them.

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, my—Mick. You’ve got it the wrong way ‘round. They aren’t here for me to see. They’re here to see you. I want them to know—all the kingdoms, all the world, all peoples—that I’ve chosen my omega. I’ve chosen you above all-others. Politics be damned. You are my omega, and I you’re alpha.”

There it is again, the scent of Mickey’s answer.

“Come here,” cajoled Ian, fingers dipping into the front opening of Mickey’s robes. His hands gingerly caressed Mickey’s tender breast in his palm. It felt large, and round, and heavy. Milk surely stretched the skin. Mickey was bursting at the nipples. Ian loved those nipples, and he loved lavishing said nipples with attention.

Mickey’s breath hitched.

Ian parted the robe’s front, parting it just enough to expose Mickey’s breast to him. Like this, Mickey’s skin was a feast meant only for his eyes. All his court knew to avert his eyes when Mickey serviced the king. None of them wanted to see the Ian’s inner-alpha unleashed.

He licked the pert bud. Over the course of the pregnancy, Mickey’s nipples hard swelled into large pebble-like things that were always semi-erect after the first trimester. They teased and taunted the king under the layers of light spring clothes. Now he nursed, as his children soon would, on Mickey’s breast.

Milk rushed into his mouth—sour and a little salty, mixed with Mickey’s natural flavor. It was warm, and of thinner consistency than the milk from Mickey’s balls. He still milked Mickey at night, kneeling at the foot of the bed with Mickey’s legs thrown over his shoulder. Those intimate moments were guarded for the bed chambers.

But, how could Ian resist the luscious peaks above Mickey’s belly?

The smell of Mickey’s arousal thickened. His hands drifted down, squeezing Ian’s shoulder then pushed. A growl ripped from Ian’s throat and Mickey’s only response was a lustful whimper. Mickey jerked his hips. His stomach hindered his cock from rubbing against Ian’s stomach. Then, another whine clawed its way up his throat.

“Ian, Ian, come on, get on.”

Well, Ian’s only a man after all.

His hands found the secret fold at the back of Mickey’s robes. It gave him easy access to Mickey’s backside if he so wished. Right now, he wished to feel Mickey’s heat around his cock. Everyone else in the hall be damned. Mickey was his, whenever and wherever he wished.

Mickey unconsciously purred as skin met skin.

That thrilled Ian’s inner-alpha all the more.

Ian’s fingers felt for the plug which kept Mickey open. Customary for male omegas, as their holes were smaller than vaginas, Mickey wore birthing plugs to help prepare him—bigger, and bigger as his due date drew near. The current one was a little thicker than Ian’s cock but not as thick as Ian’s knot.

“Ahh—ahah!”

Impatient Mickey disliked Ian’s lips being distracted. Wordlessly, he slipped the folds of his robe over his empty breast then led Ian to the other one.

“Drink,” he said, omega-voice slipping into his tone. His ass, just then, chose that moment to relinquish its hold on the plug. Slick gushed down the back of Mickey’s thighs, running their clothes. “Ahh, fuck.”

“Hmm,” Ian hummed in agreement.

“Get on me, Firecrotch.”

Ian sheathed himself without much ado. The whole nine-inches entered Mickey with little more than a squelch. Mickey’s softened muscles fluttering around the length the entire way. Ian stilled underneath the omega, the blinding pleasure of his cock in Mickey’s warm welcoming heat nearly threatened to overcome him.

But then, Mickey’s scent of spring time called back to him like a siren song.

When Ian came to, his mouth was suckling on Mickey’s other breast as the omega trembled above him. Mickey’s weight trapped Ian to the throne. The alpha king had no complaints. Mickey rewarded him by uttering nonsense, completely unaware of running his mouths.

Words like _please, Ian, fuck, s’good, yeah_ came sputtering out. Then breathy pleas for more.

Mickey scent surrounded Ian like a heavy fog. His mind grew hazy with it. Mickey clung to him from both ends—arms around his head and hole gripping his cock. Ian held in his arms the most precious person in the world.

“Ian, _move_ ,” Mickey begged, wiggling on Ian’s lap, searching for some kind of friction on his own cock, “I—I can’t—too big.”

Ian, ever benevolent, took mercy. His finger trailed over the lower partition of Mickey’s robes, seeking the source of the delicious-smelling damp mess. Milk seeped into the outer fabric, a testament to how much Mickey was currently leaking. Mickey’s cock was a small thing that fit—cock and balls—into Ian’s huge palm.

“A pity,” Ian murmured against Mickey’s swollen nipple, “such a waste of your milk.”

Mickey threw his head down, trembling. “You’re a fucking bastard.” He pulled Ian off, and gracelessly crashed their lips together. The kiss—oh, the kiss—was passionate and fierce. All of Mickey’s frustrations translated into it, crashing like wave after powerful wave into Ian’s wall of resolve.

When they parted, he kept the alpha by the back of the neck. “You so fucking owe me, bitch.” Despite the tone, he pushed his ass father back, molding his upper body into Ian’s chest, face hidden between the alpha’s neck and shoulders. “Knot now. Milk me later. It’s your fuckin’ fault I’m like this. Take responsibility.”

As if on cue, as if possessed, Ian’s knot inflated as his came, locking them together. He never had a chance to stop it for it came strong and swift. His whole body shuddered at the intensity of it, muscles locking up, thighs bracing, hands locking onto Mickey’s hips.

Mickey’s whole body relaxed when the knot settled, melting into the alpha’s embrace. Ian wanted to say more—a quick, some banter, a little teasing—but, he soon noticed the omega’s even breathing above him. He pulled away gently. Mickey’s face was relaxed in his sleep, the poor thing depleted of energy from carrying their pups.

Ian stroked Mickey’s damp hair and pulled his mate close.

He meant what he said to Mickey. This ball was not for Ian nor the town. It was for Mickey. Ian wanted the whole kingdom and the whole world to marvel upon his chosen omega. Politics be damned. Mickey wasn’t just any other omega. He was Ian’s, and Ian was his.

**Author's Note:**

> I fear your judgement. Therefore, I am hiding who I am. *hides from tomatoes*


End file.
